Like Lines in a Book
by greengirlblue
Summary: Based on Downriver by Will Hobbs. Star contemplates her fellow pirates of the Colorado.


Like Lines in a Book  
a short drabble by greengirlblue  
based on the novel _Downriver_ by Will Hobbes  
because it's an awesome book and you should read it.

No, seriously, you should go read it:  
_Downriver_ by Will Hobbes

Jessie told me, in the giddy tone a person develops when they're so exhausted everything's funny, that Freddy reads the layers of the canyon walls like lines from a book. I asked her what she meant, and she laughed and shrugged, pulling her sleeping bag up to her chin.

"Never mind, Star, I'm just tired," she said, grinning and rolling her eyes, a sign that I wasn't supposed to take anything she said now too seriously. It couldn't have been three minutes later when I finished braiding my hair and slipped into the sleeping bag next to hers, and she was already asleep. I hoped she wouldn't have any nightmares (she seemed to have a lot of them) and I fell asleep not too long afterwards.

Freddy reads the layers of the canyon like lines from a book, and Jessie reads Freddy without him noticing. I don't think even Jessie notices, herself.

I was dreaming about water, which made sense since we'd spent all day rafting down the Colorado River. In my dream, though, I was swimming in the ocean with shimmery blue and green dream fish, my hair fanning out around my face. I always dream in third person.

Rita made breakfast the next morning, and we all sat around the remains of last night's campfire eating it. Jessie was talking in encouraging tones with Troy while Pug followed Rita around, hoping for seconds, as she served Adam his food with a large spoon. Adam said something, and he was talking away from me at just the right angle so I couldn't hear it over the constant hiss of the river, but whatever he said earned him a sharp rap on the head by Rita's serving spoon. Pug laughed, and Rita whirled around to face him, and it didn't matter that she was nearly a foot shorter than him.

"Oh, you think it's funny, do you?" she said loudly, and I could hear that.

"You'd better watch out, Big Fella," Adam said ruefully, turning toward Pug and rubbing the top of his head where Rita had smacked him. "She's dangerous with that thing. Better exchange peace offerings, like that bowl for some of her food."

It took a moment for Pug to figure out what Adam was saying, but when he got it he grinned and held out his bowl, into which Rita unceremoniously plopped oatmeal.

Freddy came up from behind me and sat down on the log I'd chosen as my perch. He smiled, looking exhausted but happy.

"Good morning," I said, smiling back. Freddy fills up empty spaces so gently that, if you aren't paying attention, you're either surprised by it, or you don't notice at all. I think, since I'm the only other quiet one in the group, I'm usually the first person he approaches before he has to deal with everyone else.

"Morning," he said, scratching the back of his head with his knuckles. He seemed to think about something for a moment, and then he grinned with a row of white teeth. "Don't know if it's good or not yet, though."

I was finished with my oatmeal, but I didn't get up. "I think it's the beginning of a great day," I said emphatically.

He nodded, sincere.

I know that people sometimes think what I say is a little weird, but with Freddy, it's different. Since he grew up with his father in the mountains, he probably grew up learning Spanish and not much English. I guess he knows what it's like to want to say something, but not being sure how to say it right.

By this time, Rita noticed Freddy had made his appearance, and the direction of her gaze drew Adam and Pug's attention as well.

"Ah, Monsiere Fredric," Adam said in a mock French accent, taking Rita by the shoulders and steering her towards Freddy. "You will, of course, want to order our superb oatmeal a la carte, made with wild oats handpicked by Southern Baptist monks along the Mississippi River, and water drawn from snow melted off, I kid you not, Mount Everest."

"Give it a rest, it's too early for this junk," Rita said, jabbing Adam in the side with her elbow. At least, she tried, but Adam merely scampered out of reach and began twirling an imaginary mustache. Pug, who'd been left behind, looked like he wanted to join in, but instead he walked over to Troy and tried to start a conversation with him. Jessie immediately lost interest and looked over to the group that had surrounded around Freddy and me.

Freddy had reclined into himself a little, a signal that he was a little put off by the sudden appearance of other people, but he tried a smile anyway.

"I don't care where it comes from—I just need some food," he replied, and if he didn't sound so amused, the tone of his voice might have come across as shy.

"And we're so blessed to have Rita here with us," Adam said, bouncing back to Rita's side. "Where would our sad little party be without her wondrous culinary skills, I ask you?"

"Up a creek without a paddle," I ventured, surprising myself.

"I'm so glad you all realized just how much you need me," Rita said sarcastically before jabbing her serving spoon towards Freddy. "If you want some, go find yourself a bowl. And you -- " she whirled to face Adam "—go wash out your bowl.. I'm not your mother."

"Yes, mama-san, whatever you say," Adam said, and before Rita could do anything, he had bounded over and entered the conversation with Pug and Troy.

"He's insane, I swear," Rita said to me.

"Adam?" I asked.

"Who else?"

This was apparently a rhetorical question, because Rita just shook her head and shuffled back towards the center of the camp, the pot of oatmeal in still in hand. Freddy stood up to follow, but he stopped short suddenly, and I saw that it was because Jessie had just looked over and caught his eye. She was surprised too, but she shrugged and smiled and rolled her eyes, tilting her head towards Troy and Adam and Pug, who seemed to have gotten into some kind of spirited debate. Freddy just smiled his shy smile, and then he continued on his quest for a bowl of oatmeal.

Freddy reads the walls of the canyon like lines in a book, Jessie had said, and she reads Freddy without even noticing. She keeps watching him for a moment longer, leaning her chin in her elbows on her knees so she's curled into herself, until Troy reaches over and rests a hand on her other arm. She immediately perks up, turns her head and seems to forget all about Freddy. Maybe that's what Troy wanted – he can't ever go without attention for long.

But I can tell, even if Jessie doesn't and Troy doesn't want her to figure it out. Her mind is somewhere else, like she's just put down a very good book and won't be happy until she's thumbing through the pages again.


End file.
